Quotes About Family

Why didn't my mother ever tell me about you?" I asked my aunt. "Because I was a bad guy," my aunt said, looking directly at me. Her expression wasn't at all far away anymore. Her mouth was closed, but I could picture her missing tooth. My aunt was right: now that she'd said she was a bad guy, I wanted to know more. I wanted to know exactly how and why. "All right," I said instead, and we changed the subject.

Already, I loved my aunt, and I believe she already loved me. This seems as good a time as any to say that. To love someone is to eventually create the conditions for betraying them. This seems as good a time as any to say that, too. Because this is a story about the things my aunt taught me, and that is one of the things she taught me.

And then I remembered the truck my aunt had stolen, and I wondered if my aunt was rich or if she'd just stolen from rich people, or if there was a difference. My aunt, I suspected, would say that there was no difference. As for John Calvin, he once said that "the torture of a bad conscience is the hell of a living soul.

M.'s mother doesn't reply. She just looks at me with her deep, deep black eyes. M. has described to me these eyes and their effect. I believe that M.'s mother respects me for standing my professional ground. I also believe that I will end up being a private detective, if that's what M.'s mother really wants me to be.

My father was always telling himself no one was perfect, not even my mother.

Mama," Peter cried. She didn't look up. The door shut.

Jesse couldn't picture a more desolate setting to meet his end. He watched the water drops gather and slide down the windshield, remembered how as a child he'd pretend they were eating each other, tried to pretend he was sitting in the back of his daddy's car now heading over to Grandma's for dinner.

Father smiled.

You will form a very inadequate estimate of a man's character, if you judge by what a fond sister says of him. The worst of them generally know how to hide their misdeeds from their sisters' eyes, and their mother's, too.

I always loved family holidays, and I had this vision and dream as a little girl of having a big family of my own.

The truth is, if anyone saw my home life, I'm pretty sure it would look like other families' around the world. There's a lot of juggling to be done.

I think with motherhood and child-rearing in general, everyone's going to tell you how to do it and why. I've always said to other mothers and women when they've asked me, that you have to find your own way and find out what works for your family, at all costs.

I think I'm a really hands-on mom.

I love being a single mom. But it's definitely different when you're dating.

It was my mom and I against the world. We lived in New York in this bohemian lifestyle where an extended group of artists and photographers were like my aunts and uncles.

What does good in bed mean to me? When I'm sick and I stay home from school propped up with lots of pillows watching TV and my mom brings me soup - that's good in bed.

I thought that I would never reach for it again without remembering the old granny in front of me now, standing almost on tiptoe, squinting as she strained to see the words in the Bible her son held aloft.

'Twas a yellow rose, By that south window of the little house, My cousin Romney gathered with his hand On all my birthdays, for me, save the last; And then I shook the tree too rough, too rough, For roses to stay after.

Many a man who pays rent all his life owns his own home and many a family has successfully saved for a home only to find itself at last with nothing but a house.

While no other success of ours can compensate for our failures within or outside our homes, there is a success that can compensate when we cannot, after we conscientiously do all we can. That success is the Atonement of Jesus Christ, which can mend what for us is beyond repair.

Washington paid for the education of his twenty-two nieces and nephews.

The lives of the older Da Silvas were empty and sad. They mourned the Slave Trade as a lost Golden Age when their family was rich, famous and white. They were worn down by rheumatism and the burdens of polygamy.

In my grandmother's dining-room there was a glass-fronted cabinet and in the cabinet a piece of skin.

Family isn't blood," she said bitterly, continuing to back away. "Family is who loves you, who takes care of you.